


Script’s Bitter Taste of Cruelty in the Multiverse: A Skele-napping

by WhiskerFrisker



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Crosstale | XTale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Dreamtale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Dusttale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Horrortale (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Killertale?, Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Gen, Injury, Kidnapping, Multiversal Library Skeleton, Threats of Violence, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-27
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26131507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiskerFrisker/pseuds/WhiskerFrisker
Summary: Post-event Script quote: “This was [the start of] probably the worst moments of my life so far, though I can’t say it compares to some of the things I’ve seen and heard of within the multiverse. It was still rather awful, though. […] Unfortunately, this event was a cause for a lot more notoriety of my presence within the multiverse. *(Sighs).* I miss the old days when others had no knowledge of me… I think it’s funny, ironic really, the few times I’d felt jealous of the ones with their own story. I already understood that it wasn’t right to think like that, but now I truly understand why that is. […] Rarely anyone who has a lack of adventure focuses on the hardships that come with it.”The Record Keeper of the Multiversal Library is in danger of being forced to share all of the deepest secrets of the multiverse. How is he going to escape a situation he isn't prepared for?[This is also posted on toyhou.se:Script's Personal Story of Bitter-Tasting Papers]
Relationships: TBA - Relationship
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. Skele-napped

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to a new... story-thing. It's gonna be weird, and it's mainly to introduce my new character Script, but I'm trying my best to make it good as of right now.
> 
> Ok guys, I know I keep starting new stories, but lemme explain. I swear I'm going to complete the rest of my stories, but I have to recover from the chaos that happened since January to now on top of everything going on in the world. I just need to reset my brain some and relearn how to be creative. I'm currently incapable of providing good interpretations of what is in my head as of right now. Sorry in advance, but again this isn't a sign that everything else is discontinued. I should probably write that in the summaries... *sweat.* Anyway! I hope you enjoy my train-wreck of an attempting to be creative here while I simultaneously introduce my new character.  
> P.S. This is also posted on toyhou.se: [Script's Personal Story of Bitter-Tasting Papers](https://toyhou.se/~literature/55134.scripts-personal-story-of-bitter-tasting-papers) Script's character profile can also be reached through this link.  
> Posted: 8/26/2020  
> 
> 
> Triggers: none I can think of. Lemme know if something needs to be added.

There is a Multiverse centered completely around a world known to the creators as Undertale. Born from the Undertale game, this multiverse grew swiftly and has thrived with glutton on the millions of creative and inspirational energy put into the multiverse. Within this multiverse has lived a being that has kept record of nearly every existing thing in the multiverse. This being, known as Script, had only recently become clearly noticed despite existence since not long after the exuberant largeness of the multiverse had become apparent. Script knows nearly everything due to the influence of creators, whether they’d known he was listening or not. 

Script is a peculiar skeleton of the Undertale Multiverse. He knew just about everything that occurred within this multiverse. He’s required to know as much as possible for his creator-given job; Script calls these creators “makers,” as that was what he decided to call them when he first began his job despite knowing they are more commonly known as creators. Script’s job for the multiverse is to collect and keep all records of every occurrence, place, being, and so-on within the Multiversal Library. The records that are not common knowledge or considered dangerous to be known about are kept within a secret archive. 

The records are not all observed and recorded by Script himself, though that is his most common means of gaining information. Script has a few other main sources, those being the books within multiverses, the stories written by makers, and the rare occurrence in which he can faintly hear the makers themselves talking about creations. All in all, Script’s job is a constantly progressing one.

This story, however, is not about Script’s emergence and how his job works. Rather, this is a story about the one time this being of near-infinite multiversal knowledge had nearly been forced to tell the secrets of the multiverse to one of the most volatile creatures that lived within it. There are very few times the Record Keeper of the Undertale Multiverse had found himself in a very compromising position thanks to his previous anonymity, and of these times Script has been able to handle these occurrences somewhat easily. Oftentimes, if one desires to steal from the library, they are banished, and those that learn of the secret archive are dusted to protect the knowledge. This time, Script was practically helpless.

~━━━━━━━━━~

_A Day Unlike Any Other…_

The day had started like any other, for Script at least. The vastly knowledgeable being had been observing the destruction of an Alternate Universe, one with an underground with hardly any walls. Script recalls feeling reverence for the ability to see waterfall’s explosive destruction from the door of the Hotland Lab. This was a risky observation, as was most of his field work, because the chaotic destructor of universes himself was the cause. Error, a Sans having originated from a “happily ever after” Aftertale timeline, was wreaking havoc without pause. Script understands why the destructive Sans does what he does. 

According to Script’s research, this manic destroyer was fueled by resentment for his loss of his “happily ever after” only just after reaching it, and had reverted back to his desire to destroy everything to prevent suffering, only now it was a warped idea having originated from his time spent in the save screen. Said idea, a rather common knowledge among the makers, was that all timelines branching from the original Undertale were glitches and must be eradicated. Script often found a form of admiration and respect for the strength of the destructive skeleton, though he often finds sadness for lost stories. Script, however, knows that endings are just as important as beginnings, and the two tie together perfectly. 

While Script had been busy watching the destruction and reactions to such chaos, he was caught off-guard. It was during an explosion that shook the entire underground and whipped Scripts face with sharp air when his own distress had begun. A deep, languid yet cutting voice spoke from behind Script, making him just and whip around to face the stranger. Script finds the room dark, nearly pitch-black in the corners furthest from the light of the open doorway where the paranoid skeleton stood. Script briefly takes in the absence of any working appliances and decides it’s possible the CORE had exploded, thus cutting off power. That was hardly important compared to the figure standing among the shadows a mere five feet away from the Record Keeper, a red circular light at about lower-chest level in comparison to Script’s height. The stranger in the shadows had said something, but Script had been too startled and filled with anxiety to understand nor recall it.

Script meekly calls out, “Um, excuse me?” The stranger then asks if Script is the Storyteller, which immediately tips Script off as something being wrong; no one would ask a random skeleton in this situation if they were the Storyteller unless they had information they were following. Storyteller, a Sans that owns the Multiversal Library, is one person Script knows well enough to call him an acquaintance, which makes him even more anxious about the alarms going off in his soul. Caught off-guard and feeling anxious, Script fumbles to try and answer. Unfortunately, the stranger takes this as a sign of something else and calls out the anxious skeleton as being “the Scribe.” Said skeleton’s marrow runs cold with his paper-like soul clenching in fear. 

Script tries to be elusive, stammering a claim about not knowing a Script, yet the stranger suddenly leaps forward, only leaving mere inches between their faces. Script had tried to pull away as he was struck with terror, yet he felt his soul clench painfully in what he understands to be gravity-manipulating magic. The realization that he is stuck along with the recognition of his provoker has Script barely managing to push down the desire to physically panic and flail.

The stranger casually claims that, if the scared skeleton isn’t the Scribe, then the wimpy skeleton will serve as a new plaything. Yet he then goes back on his word and says that he won't. A brief, tense pause fills the inches of space between them, and then the stranger leans just enough forward to reveal his manic face in the light as he speaks, “After all, I know when someone is **_LYING_ ** _.”_

Now within the light streaming in from the open doorway is the clear visage of an eyelight-less skull with tarry, hate-filled tears streaming from his sockets, trailing down around the sociopathic smile on the dangerous skeleton’s face. Before Script, hunched forward and crowding all personal space, stands Killer, a skeleton known for his merciless torture. Not only that, but Script also recognizes the sense of Nightmare’s claim, an ex-guardian and now king of negativity. This combination of problems has Script utterly dreading the stark possibility that the king of negativity had been seeking Script out personally. 

A brush of cold, sharp metal against Script’s vertebrae has the panicked skeleton freeze completely, sweat dripping from his skull from the stress and terror. Killer speaks in a somewhat careless yet eager voice as he states he’s not here to play games. Despite his terror, Script stammers out that he also doesn’t feel like playing games and, with a knowingly hopeless attempt, then says he’d rather not play at all with the other skeleton. Killer seems to find this funny in some way, his smile inching upward manically ever so slightly, though the blade presses more firmly against Script’s neck. 

The pressure on Script’s vertebrae causes him to tense further, not wanting to add a wound to what he’s sure will become many more. With this obvious physical show of threat, Killer releases Script and states that the Scribe is coming with him as a delivery to his boss. Killer then turns to face the dark lab as if to walk away, obviously expecting Script to follow. Thoughtlessly, thanks to his lack of communication skills, Script asks if he means Nightmare, then gives a strangled, soft yelp as the murderous skeleton suddenly turns halfway to face the papery skeleton. He gives Script a lecherous smirk and condescendingly says he knew the meek skeleton had it in him to tell the truth. 

Killer’s words seem to kick off some form of manic impatience in the merciless skeleton, as he grabs Script's arm and yanks him into the dark. Script yelps fearfully and stumbles after him, leaning as far away from Killer as he can without losing too much balance. Despite his meager attempts to pull away, Killer’s continuous and random jerking motions on Scripts arm have the nervous skeleton somewhat scattered mentally. However, as they move deeper into the dark, Script becomes desperate to escape upon seeing a black, swirling portal near the other end of the room. With panic, Script begins to yank at his own arm, trying to pry Killer’s grip from his wrist. 

Script’s efforts to escape are short-lived as it only takes Killer roughly ten seconds before he responds. Quick as a flash of glinting metal, Killer’s knife slices the air in Script’s face. The weker skeleton cries out in shock before he feels a prominent stinging on his right cheek. His free hand immediately rises to his face and is placed where sludge-like marrow seeps from a somewhat deep cut across his cheek. A soft whimper elicits as he covers the cut that begins to burn, all the while giving the shadowed Killer a fearful, meek expression. Killer laughs at this before suddenly flinging Script into the portal. The raw scream of terror fills the room only briefly before the fearful skeleton passes through the portal. Killer smiles with sadistic satisfaction before following after the Scribe with a languid stroll. He doesn’t doubt the weak skeleton is already restrained. 

The portal closes after the sadistic skeleton fully moves through, thus leaving the lab empty. However, what appeared empty with silence is suddenly struck with a soft whimper coming from the upper floor. A short, stocky shape shuffles to peer down from the top of the escalator near the entrance facing towards Waterfall. Glasses glint upon their face as a weak, stray reflection briefly catches upon the lenses. With a whimper, a stuttering female voice ponders on the idea of contacting someone of greater power in the multiverse. However, the female doesn’t have time to reach for her interdimensional phone before the lab is suddenly violently shaking and rubble begins to crumble from the walls and ceiling at an alarming rate. It only takes twenty seconds for the building to be ripped apart, leaving no evidence behind of the kidnapping, nor of the witness.

The Alternate Universe is quickly disposed of not long after.

~━━━━━━━━━~

_End..._

_Of the Beginning._


	2. Cold, Dark, and Malicious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-event Script quote: “I’m going to be honest; I always wondered what Nightmare’s castle would be like. I wanted to know, but not from experience and being in danger. A few hundred personal accounts would have sufficed. I guess I happened to be one of those accounts.”
> 
> In which Script finds himself in the lion's den.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy, I got a bit of my writing mojo back! I had some sparks of energy for this story and suddenly I made a second chapter! It's definitely a sign of better health times coming back to me. Huzzah! Hopefully y'all will be seeing more of my stuff instead of having to wait for it while I recover. Hope you enjoy the chapter!  
> Note: you might notice a change in style a little bit past the halfway point. That's about when I got my spark back.
> 
> Warnings: none? (Lemme know if there needs to be some.)

Script is tossed into the black swirling portal from the Hotland Lab and into a dim area. The tossed skeleton immediately trips and falls into a skid against a grainy, cold ground upon exiting the portal. His head swims with confusion from the impact. Before he has even a second to recover, a heavy weight drops atop him, smooshing him against the hard ground further. His breath of surrounding magic deflates out of him from the sudden shock. Script dazedly claws at the ground in hopes of crawling out from under the heavy weight atop him, but it’s no use due to his current state and the weight bearing down on him. He lets out a groan of mild panic and displeasure, then stills when the thing on top of him vibrates with a chuckle above Script’s head. 

Script's soul stutters when he realizes someone is holding him down. Having just been kidnapped by Killer and noticing the dark stone beneath him, Script can easily narrow down the possible culprits to about five to seven skeletons - it honestly depends on who the King of Negativity had on his team right now. 

As Script tries to get a better look around despite being squashed, he feels the skeleton atop him shift his weight around. Laughs echo around him like a cathedral. Script doesn't have time to think on possible attempts to escape as the one atop him heavily plants a hand between his shoulder blades. Another hand clamps onto the top of Script's skull, the phalanges poking into his eye sockets. Said skull is then yanked back, jerking his spine into a somewhat painful bend backwards. 

Script yelps when his vertebrae are bent backwards too far. He hisses painfully and the large skeleton on top of him leans down to rest his skull on Script’s shoulder, pressed against his skull. Magic breath smelling of a sickeningly sweet metal scent fills Script's head, adding to the dizzying feeling already drowning him. 

"Ya seem to be in a _tight_ spot, know-it-all," a deep, rumbling, yet still somewhat quiet voice comes from Script's captor.

Script's breath hitches on the next shallow breath, causing sparks of panicking magic to appear across his vision. He tries to speak, not really sure what he wants to say. However, all that comes out is a staggered wheeze due to the restricted magic flow through his neck. His eyelights strain to catch any telling pieces of information about his captor's face. He can only see the edges of their frontal bones glowing red, which hardly narrows the possibilities down.

The one holding Script hisses out a sigh, "I must've stolen your breath away. Heh, I do that quite often, ya know? Of course, they don't live long to tell about it." 

The captor shakes Script's skull ever so slightly, phalanges curling further into the top of Script's eye sockets. The captive skeleton whimpers softly, shaking with his attempt to hold back from moving. Soft plips of translucent turquoise tears bead at the edges of script’s eye sockets from the cramping pain of the phalanges scraping the inside of his skull.

"Lucky for you," the skeleton continues, "I can't put you on the menu. Not too disappointing, considering you're just bones, not even any skin." 

With that, the skeleton's phalanges withdraw from scraping the inside of Script's eye sockets. The sharp angle in Script's neck is suddenly released, allowing his skull to drop and smack into the grainy stone floor. Script makes a stuttered noise of surprised displeasure, then lifts his head slightly to rub at his vomer bone and bonebrows. 

The weight of Script's captor suddenly lifts, allowing a gasp of rejuvenating magic to enter Script's magic circulation. He's quick to shove his hands into the grainy floor, lifting himself as fast and far as possible in hopes of gaining some ground. This proves hopeless, however, as a long and malleable appendage suddenly snaps around his lower spine and jerks him up into the air. Script gasps from the shock and subsequent fear both from the grasp and the striking change in velocity. His limbs scramble in the air briefly before his panic-induced blurred vision clears. 

Script freezes. He looks down upon the five deranged skeletons below, a mere three feet separating him from them. The skeletons could easily reach up and grab his dangling legs. Script recognizes the laser-focused malicious intent in Dust Sans’ eyes as he looks up at Script, and Script could only hope that, knowing of Dust’s past, the killer skeleton wouldn’t be as volatile. Script then eyes the insatiable hunger swirling in Horror Sans’ eyelight, yet the lack of meat on Script’s body seems to be less interesting to Horror. Next, Script’s quivering eyelights land on Cross Sans, and beneath his unprecedented fear he feels uncertainty toward the mostly monochrome skeleton. Script knows that Cross can be loyal to what he sees is best, so he hopes the other would go easy on him for this reason. Finally, Script sees the manic curiosity in the way Killer Sans stands and eyes him with empty sockets bleeding hatred. Script knows that Killer is the worst to be put in a room with, as the dangerous skeleton is known to drag out the torture he inflicts.

Script begins to tremble, feeling as though he were hanging above a tank full of starving crocodiles. His hands move to clasp and lightly push at the appendage around the waist area of his spine. He quickly trails his eyelights from the black appendage to the one running this psychotic show. Nightmare. The King of Negativity is dangling Script like bait. Already, Script notices the rising excitement reflect in a few of the skeletons directly below him. He curls into a ball, trying his best to protect his gangly limbs from potential grabbing hands. 

The tentacle around Script's lower spine begins to shift about like a snake, pulling a startled whimper from Script himself. He looks down as the sound of Nightmare's lackeys' talking softly fills the air. Script's focus immediately narrows completely on the black appendage snaking under his coat. Panicking, Script starts squirming to try and push or twist himself out of this predicament, but it's no use. Due to his squirming, the cold, oily tendril brushes against the inner sides of his ribs, and Script jolts with a violent shudder. 

All at once, an overwhelming negative presence overcomes Script’s entire being. He chokes, feeling his magic trying to push back, yet the darkness remains mostly steady with its presence. In his moment of unawareness, Script hadn't noticed the tendril pulling away out of his ribcage until a stark change in lighting momentarily blinds him. Script flinches and blinks a few times before yet again he freezes, this time in unmatched terror, his eyelights forming into mere outlines of their normal shapes. Before him, just out of reach of Script and grasped in the oily appendage mere feet in front of Nightmare, is Script's papery soul. Immediately, Script finds himself panicking, knowing that death isn't the worst of his concerns now. His papery bones softly rattle, failing to properly express in sound how violently he's shaking thanks to the papery mixture of his bones. 

Nightmare's single cyan-green eyelight studies Script's soul with an intensely morbid curiosity. "Now…" Nightmare begins with a deep and warbling sludgy voice, "I have a few questions for you… little Scribe." Nightmare's head tilts back just enough to clearly show his malicious and eager smile to the shivering skeleton in his grasp. "You can answer them the easy way…" Nightmare trails off as he gives Script's soul a demeaning look before squeezing it briefly with the appendage holding it. Script chokes on his own magic as the overwhelming negativity overtakes him. "Or we can do it the fun way!" A sharp, excited smile splits across Nightmare's face, his single eye wide and piercing. "Fun for us, at least…"

Despite how painful and weighted the negativity is on his soul, Script is luckily bound to The Multiversal Library, thus somewhat dampening the permanent damaging effects of the emotions. Nonetheless, Script is still overwhelmed by additional fear and hopelessness from the King of Negativity. Despite his scrambled consciousness, Script manages to respond with a shake of his head in defiance, knowing what Nightmare would want most from him. 

Silence overcomes the room, the previous undercurrent of the lackeys’ mumblings now missing and leaving only the soft sound of Nightmare’s liquid form slithering passively. Script feels his soul quiver in trepidation, and then he feels through the contact of Nightmare’s tentacle the rising anger and vile intent. Sweat breaks out across Script’s body as his head is filled with images of possible torture fueled by Nightmare’s negativity.

“No…?” Nightmare asks as he looks up at Script with mock surprise. Then a wide, devilish smile fills his oily face and his eyelight drills into Script’s terrified face. “I guess that means we’ll be having some fun then… isn’t that right?” Upon asking his question, Nightmare scans the skeletons in front of him with an expectant look. 

Script looks down at the lion’s den below him and sees each skeleton give unique reactions. Dust gives a mildly intrigued nod, likely more interested in LV than anything else. Horror seems only mildly interested as well, though he gives a more enthusiastic nod, and Script guesses the skeleton would be more interested in rewards. Cross seems to hesitate in thought over the question before nodding sharply and glancing away; Script desperately hopes with hopelessness that this would somehow work in his favor. Then his eyelights look to Killer, and he feels his soul tremble in the hold of Nightmare’s tentacle.

Killer Sans has a face-splitting smile as he admires Nightmares proposition. Then his empty sockets raise to look right back at Script’s own quivering eyelights. The liquid hatred pours from his eye sockets, a testament to the wickedly eager desire of the skeleton. Script jolts when he feels the direct eye-contact connect, feeling as though his eyelights had been painfully hooked by the stare. No matter how hard he tries, Script can’t look away from the cold sockets staring back. Consternation engulfs Script as he realizes the worst case scenario, aka being stuck with Killer, is most likely to occur. 

Nightmare turns his gaze to look across his subordinates and addresses them. "You all remember what I've told you?" Each of the four skeletons nod in their own forthright. Script notices that Cross seems the least eager of them all, giving a sharp nod caked in dutifulness rather than anything eager. Nightmare grins wickedly at their responses. "Good. Information extraction is the key here, so **do not** kill him. If you do, you'll be taking his place in the dungeon."

With that, Script suddenly feels gravity take hold where Nightmare's supporting tentacles become absent. Script gives a near-breathless yelp as he drops through the air. His body jars viciously against the cold, grainy stone that makes up the flooring. Script's chest spasms from the shock before he can take a few recovering breaths of the surrounding magic in the air. The tainted energy given off by the five malicious monsters around him causes his magic intake to feel less rejuvenating, but he readily takes in what he can. 

After regaining some of his awareness, Script can hear discussion around him. His soul stutters in fear and his eye sockets snap open upon hearing words involving bone breaking. He comes to find four subordinates partially circled around his form, standing over him like predators assured in their capture of prey. Dust and Horror stand to his right, their shoes about a foot away from Script's form on the ground. Killer is directly to his left, his shoes mere inches from his shoulder. Off to the side from Killer near Script's legs is Cross. 

Against his better judgement, Script looks up to Killer's face. He trembles as he finds that same malicious intrigue in the hollow eye sockets that leak liquid hate. Script glances to the starkly contrasting face of Cross behind Killer. He finds the near-monochrome skeleton looking off to the side with a steely expression. Script props his body up slightly by his shoulders and shimmies backwards slightly, hoping to get out from under these skeletons even a little bit. He stills completely when he spies a worming tentacle high above his head. He becomes locked in place, finding his escape only for wishful thinking.

Nightmare's voice cuts the banter between the four above Script. "Killer," Nightmare addresses with a sharp tone with hints of a pleased air about him. 

Script's head snaps to the sharp movement of Killer's skull turning to face Nightmare, and Script feels the slightest reprieve from not having that malicious stare drilling into his skull. "Yeah boss?" Killer responds to Nightmare.

Nightmare's next words slide out like liquid evil, "You have first dibs." Script's soul jitters about with existential dread, and he shrinks in on himself when Killer's eye sockets retrain themselves back onto Script's cowering form. Nightmare speaks again, hissing his words with venom, "And don't even try to use the excuse that you forgot my warnings. Else I'll make an example of you." Script spies a few tendrils above him lash irritably as Nightmare speaks. He feels the dread coating his soul tighten with anxiety over the possibility of Killer overdoing things.

Killer's stare only moves away from Script's form to address Nightmare. "I'll keep that in mind." A sharp exhale of exasperation comes from above and directly behind Script, sending cold chills down his spine. 

With his assurance given, Killer's gaze magnetizes right back to Script, and this time his eye sockets languidly eye his form as if Script were being dissected. Script feels cold sweat break out on his body as the harmful intent in Killer's gaze locks onto different places of his body. No doubt the demented skeleton is figuring the best places to start breaking things.

As Killer's gaze returns to Script's face and their eyes lock, a cruel smirk hitches onto the devilish skeleton's face. Script whimpers slightly as he finds himself paralyzed with fear. Killer tilts his head to the side with humor laced into his cruel grin.

Nightmare once more speaks up, sharp and authoritative. "Everyone else, get back to your work! We have preparations to make." Each skeleton moves away from Script with purposeful steps, all except Killer. 

As the other skeletons' footsteps echo through the room and fade into another doorway, Script feels the silence beginning to weigh heavily upon him while the ruthless skeleton above him simply looms.

Script feels like he's going to have a bad time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will probably be coming in a month or so.

**Author's Note:**

> Like I said, not my full potential is available to write. I'm trying to keep writing, however, to try and jumpstart my ability. 
> 
> Updates are inconsistent due to outside life.


End file.
